


Under the Golden Moon

by NARKOTIKA



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Arranged Marriage, Historical Fantasy, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mpreg, Omega Stiles Stilinski, POV Derek, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 04:44:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3837538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NARKOTIKA/pseuds/NARKOTIKA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek doesn't know how long he sits in his wolf skin, on his haunches, observing Stiles as the sunbeams slant through the trees and cast slashes of light across the omega's willowy form. The boy has his feet in the water, a babe on his hip, a bright smile on his face as the other younglings splash around and soak his garb. The creamy skin of his thighs peek out from the slits running down the sides of his draping skirt, and Derek has never wanted anything more than he wants this beautiful being of the woods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Golden Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Snowdrop and Primrose](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2563667) by [shuglove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuglove/pseuds/shuglove). 



> This story is a remix of shuglove's ['Snowdrop and Primrose'](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2563667).

The Pack and the Children of the Forest come together a week before the Golden Moon.

Derek thinks the Children are odd, but not unkind. He is the Alpha, but he does not know how to harmonize with them, so he avoids them. Leave that to his rambunctious betas. His mother notices, frowning, but does not say anything.

Derek does not think he could ever grow used to the Children, with their unconventional dialect and primitive lifestyle. The Children think Derek's people are the primal ones, because they live in a castle and wear shoes.

"The wolves are carnal because they live behind those stone walls, where Mother Moon's light cannot reach them," the eldest younglings relate. "Look at those wolves, with their peculiar foot tents," they whisper. "Why do they not let the earth beneath their feet? Why do they turn away from its warmth and comfort?"

The Children are a simple people, Derek recognizes that, but that does not make the Pack a bunch of feral savages.

Because he is a good Alpha, Derek welcomes the Children with open arms, and because he is a proud Alpha, Derek tries not to let his gaze linger on the pale skin of the Child blessed by the stars.

 

* * *

 

Their first encounter is at the river. Derek doesn't realize that the scent he has been tracking is Stiles' until he reaches the treeline on the bank where there is a clear view of the boy.

Derek doesn't know how long he sits in his wolf skin, on his haunches, observing Stiles as the sunbeams slant through the trees and cast slashes of light across the omega's willowy form. The boy has his feet in the water, a babe on his hip, a bright smile on his face as the other younglings splash around and soak his garb. The creamy skin of his thighs peek out from the slits running down the sides of his draping skirt, and Derek has never wanted anything more than he wants this beautiful being of the woods.

As if he can feel Derek's eyes, Stiles looks up and around, scanning the density of the forest. Derek wants to flee, to take off before Stiles sees him, but something makes him hold his ground, and then Stiles' eyes have met his, and— _oh. That's what made me stay._

 

* * *

  

Everyone knows there will be an alliance—a _marriage_ , more specifically—before the Golden Moon has passed; the Pack and the Children have been brought together for this reason. Stiles is the Children's only heir, but his father says the boy doesn't want to marry, that he's still young, still unworldly, but he knows the alliance is necessary, and as the days pass, and Derek continues to trail Stiles, he grows anxious while he awaits the Children's final verdict.

One day, as Stiles is flower picking out in the field, Derek's ears perk up at the sound of the boy's voice. "If I must marry," he says, "I would have you be my husband, black wolf."

Derek sleeps outside Stiles' tent that night and their marriage is announced in the morning.

 

* * *

 

They have a ceremony when the Golden Moon is at its peak.

Stiles is dressed in white, wearing his anklets and bangles and a gold circlet on the crown of his head. Derek can't stop looking at him, and the blush on the boy's face only glows brighter beneath the moonlight. At the end of their vows, Derek kisses his omega for the first time and swears he can taste the next six decades of their life.

 

* * *

 

Stiles is unhappy.

They go to sleep together in the same bed, but Derek always wakes when he hears the rustling of the covers gingerly being pushed back and the warmth of his omega sliding from the space beside him. Stiles has made a habit of running from their bed, hiding and curling up somewhere else and falling back asleep when he thinks Derek isn't awake and listening.

Derek doesn't understand. It is a warm bed, a sturdy bed. How is the cold of the halls better than Derek, who always runs warm—Derek, who is flesh and blood and all the protection Stiles could ever need? Each night, Derek feels the omega carefully slip from the cocoon of his arms to sleep away from him. And Derek always follows soon after, dragging a blanket along, melding himself around his mate as he drifts into unconsciousness cradled against Derek's breadth.

Derek is not dense. He understands how difficult adjusting must be for Stiles, how frightening it must be to suddenly be dropped into a life where he sleeps in a wolf's den and is expected to raise good little wolf children. He knows why the boy sleeps beside the window, eyes on the stars, and why he's not particularly passionate about wearing the clothes the Pack offers, an unendlessly sour look on his face when the skirts itch or the suffocating bodice of his dress gets in the way; he always prefers to wear as little as possible, and that makes Derek anxious, for it's nearing winter and the cold stone floors are not meant for delicate, pale feet that like to go bare.

Derek knows that Stiles finds it hard to be bitter with him, when he is a good man, who is good to his Pack. Stiles must know all Derek wants is for him to be happy.

And Derek knows why Stiles doesn't say anything. He knows the boy would do anything for the Children, and that means becoming a wolf.

Stiles is shy. He looks bashful now, pulling the blanket up to his nose, trying to merge with the furs, as if to camouflage himself. Derek looks at him fondly, wrapping his frame around his omega, enveloping his mate's cold, little hands within his own, thumbing the ring on the boy's fourth finger. Stiles must know Derek craves him, that he is aching to hold him, with the way he moves in that controlled manner, slow and deliberate, almost obnoxiously cautious. Derek wants nothing more than to make love to his omega everyday until the end of time, but he will not lay a finger on Stiles until it is wanted.

Sometimes Stiles feels miles away, and Derek does not blame him.

Stiles does not know him.

Derek will change that.

 

* * *

 

It starts subtly, just little things here and there. Feeding Stiles most of his meat so the omega is full and strong. Spending an unholy amount of time with the little wolves, teaching them how to apply their noses and exercise their keen hearing, helping them become strong young wolves. The mattress is put on the floor, and Stiles begins to stay, but he reeks of anxiety and sleeps restlessly and as a result is twitchy during the day—but he stays.

Then, for the first night since their union, Stiles sleeps without waking.

 

* * *

 

Winter arrives, and with it the cold. A calm has set over the land. Stiles learns to dress more warmly, and each time Derek kisses him, their lips linger longer than the time previous. Stiles spends his days like a cat, lazing in front of the fire, or napping as the world outside grows colder, and then his heat comes, and Derek wonders how he was the last person to notice all the signs.

Stiles is a panting, moaning mess when Derek wakes. He blinks and in the next breath has his hand wrapped around Stiles' fragile neck, and for half a second, the one thing he's feared more than anything else is a reality. What has he done? Oh, Spirit, how will Stiles ever forgive him? And then he hears the whispering, the soft mewling, and Derek just needs to know—

"Stiles," he says from behind his fangs, and he doesn't know how to ask Stiles of this, how to make sure this is what he wants—

"I need you," Stiles breathes.

Derek's heart thunders in his chest and he doesn't even know how he's still managing to speak when he rasps, "Tell me again."

Without hesitation: "I want you."

Derek doesn't waste any time before he's bearing down on Stiles, ravaging his lush mouth, stealing the omega's breath like a drowning man gasping for air. Derek can't stop kissing him, can't stop smelling him, running his hands all over, worshiping every inch of skin within sight. He smooths his hands over Stiles' ribs, his hips—his body so soft and pale in contrast to Derek's firm muscles and tanness, the callouses on his palms smoothing their way along the boy's slick thighs, rucking up that long shirt, revealing milky skin from head to toe.

Derek dips his fingers low, where Stiles is warm and wet and so _ready_ , so desperate for Derek's knot, and a fleeting pang of guilt washes over him for not paying attention, for depriving Stiles of his cock, of his seed, for even a second.

And then Derek is softly babbling, gently narrating, "Ever since I saw you." The words are spilling from his mouth, like he's had too much to drink—drunk, that's what he is, drunk on the scent of his omega, skin-deep and all _Stiles_. "I want to do everything to you, little omega." He's plunging his fingers into Stiles' aching quim, over and over, without mercy, whispering desperately, viciously into Stiles' ear, against his clavicle, where his beard chafes against dewy skin, over and over, and his omega's coloring flushes pink and tender.

Stiles jolts and comes undone, fingers scraping over Derek's shoulder blades, down his spine, head tossed back, and before he's finished moaning, Derek is inside him.

There's nothing like it, the inside of Stiles' body, where he is so soft, making way for Derek, creating space like it knows that's where Derek belongs, and for the first time in his life, Derek begs.

Stiles' voice comes as a sob: "I want you to mate me."

Derek's head is occupied by nothing but Stiles, of making him feel so good, like he promised, of filling him with all the children he could ever want, as his hips hammer out a punishing rhythm. Stiles is falling apart at every thrust, breath hitching, taken along with the rocking of Derek's cock within him. When Derek's knot locks inside his omega's swollen cunt, and the boy whispers those three cathartic words, the man buries his face into his mate's throat, tilts his hips, and fills him, throwing Stiles right over the edge with his alpha.

Outside, the snow falls.

 

* * *

 

In the spring, Stiles teaches Derek how to make a crown of snowdrops and primroses for a head the size of a grapefruit.

In the summer, the Children arrive early for the Golden Moon. Stiles' father and Derek's mother bond over their first grandchild, the littlest alpha, with Stiles' starry complexion and Derek's pluck. She dons a flower crown crafted by her Alpha father. The Pack and the Children of the Forest bloom and blossom in joyous harmony.

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya!
> 
> This is the first time I've ever written fanfiction and I just absolutely had to post it! I lovelovelove shuglove's ['Snowdrop and Primrose'](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2563667), so I ended up remaking it from Derek's POV, and this is the result. If you haven't already, please go check out the fic that inspired this remix, it is completely and utterly PHENOMENAL.


End file.
